


L'Amant du Pianiste

by Astray



Series: Bones, Skulls, and Kittens [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, NSFW, Public Display of Affection, Size Difference, from strangers to husbands, it's so cliché and I'm not sorry, tattoos worship, they are the worst saps ever and they just met, titles are in French because I can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: Fang ends up taking his aunt's advice and starts playing on one of the pianos left around town. And so, every morning he plays. After some time, he notices that someone stays to listen to him. But even if he is intrigued by, interested in, this man, Fang is not going to make his move just yet - until he does.





	L'Amant du Pianiste

When September came, the pianos had been installed throughout the city, as Zetiva had said. Fang started to suspect she probably got a few people into thinking it was a good idea. And because it was September, Fang got more work. Piano lessons were back on track, and he had warned his students - and their parents - about his project. And offered to steer them towards other good teachers, if they did not like the thought of their kids learning with someone with such a tattoo. 

He had been rather pleased to see that short of two, all his students called back. Some he had been teaching for years. Some were even at the music school, and still came. One of them had given the excuse that with him, she got to do fun stuff. Not just the classical pieces that were done to death. These classes took place on the weekend, and one evening a week. 

Another evening he had kept for himself - fencing was fun, thank you, and he had gotten to it when he was still living with his parents. No way he’d let that go. Although his  _ maître d’armes _ joked that now, he would be stuck with pirate plays. Or could be the Jolly Roger. Which became his new nickname after two hours. He did not mind. 

The rest of his evenings were free, in case the art school called him. Modelling for them was something he had started doing when he needed the money to keep his head above the water. It taught him how to stay motionless without fidgeting more than playing the piano would have done on its own. 

Today was warm, not too sunny - but sunscreen was part of his life, now. He wanted to try that whole ‘playing in public’ thing. So he went to the park, with his tea tumbler, and some music sheets. Things he had to practice, things that he liked. The piano in the park was in the shade, which was a nice bonus. It was still fairly early - early risers were already at work, and it was too early for most people to hang around. The wind was crisp. It was a good day, with no rain. 

He uncovered the piano, to find it made of plain wood. Old but with the kind of wear school pianos had. Well cared-for. He settled down, prepared his sheets, checked the tune. It was fairly good. Probably not as sharp as his own, but still. Good. So he started to play, his touch gentle - he did not like hitting the notes as hard as some would. It was a leisurely pace, one that was not meant to assault listeners, but simply, swirl around them as they went by. 

He played with abandon, not caring about the rest of the world - music carrying him, until the light indicated it was probably soon to be eleven. He rested in hands on his knees when he was finished, breathing in deeply. He craned his neck, and caught a glimpse in a tall man in a suit, who gave him a nod before walking away. People usually did not look at him directly, so it was a bit of a surprise. 

It later became a bit of a tradition to Fang - he came every morning, and settled for 8. It was a bit early for him but it was then that his listener always stopped. Always for a piece. He never got close enough to talk, but Fang was observant enough to notice a few things. 

He was wearing well-made suits. Probably because of his height. He had long hair, tied back.  Handsome features. Fang knew he had a type - taller than himself. Which was not too common. That man, he was way ahead. 

It only took Fang two weeks to know he was doomed. Because he started to pay attention to his own clothes. He expected this man to keep showing up. Closer now, listening intently. Waiting for Fang to show up. It made Fang smile, no matter how damn cliché it all seemed. Sometimes, the man was late. But he always showed up. And always left before Fang could reach him.

One morning, Fang had not made it. One of his aunt had called, threatening to wreck the place because her son was gone. She obviously expected Fang to have hidden the kid… It was a black sheep thing, something Zetiva explained to him when he called her to ask about it. 

When Fang had managed to kick his aunt out, he had run to the park. The man was gone.  _ You dumb ass… why would he have waited for you?  _ He found a note, stuck between lid and keys. ‘Sorry that I had to run. Hope you are well. Thank you.’ The handwriting was neat, sharp. Obviously a fountain pen. He kept the note. Maybe it was not for him but he hoped it was. He played. 

The next day, Fang was there early and it seemed to surprise his listener when he arrived. Fang had written a note, and had just left it on the seat where his audience always sat. It was nothing fancy. ‘Thank you. For caring. For listening.’ He saw the man take the note and read it. Saw him tuck it in his breast pocket. Fang kept his in his wallet. Zetiva had teased him about it, but Natil had defended him. Arguing that just because you looked like a murderer did not mean you could not be soft. Marshmallow was the word. 

Fang did not care. He was kept on his toes by this stranger and while he itched to talk to him… He would wait. Never mind that his imagination decided to take a dip in the gutter. And obviously, it was not going to resurface. His hands almost slipped, only practice kept him on track. The  _ Danse Macabre.  _ He liked the bones’ sounds.

His constant listener got up after Fang had started a new piece. Leapt out of the bench after a glance at his watch, that was more like it. Fang kept playing, but he was certain he had not hallucinated the ‘thank you’ the man had mouthed in his direction. On top of being hot, he also made Fang go warm all over. That was ridiculous. He would have to find a way to talk to him, if he kept being so elusive. 

Their little ritual went on. By the the autumn break rolled by, Fang had started to find his hands less and less satisfying. But he could not help it, it was worse than being a teenager again. He bit his lips, his touch much rougher than necessary. He could not get this man out of his head. Details. How tall he was - his hands. He wanted these hands on him. He wanted to be slammed against a wall and  _ owned  _ by that man he never spoke to, like he never had wanted it. 

As soon as he was done, he finished cleaning himself. Got ready to leave. It was overcast, slightly colder. He took his scarf. This time he had the coat with the hood. He knew Zetiva was adamant about hats, but with his tattoo, the hat was overkill. His gloves. He walked to the park. He ran. He had that feeling… He was going to talk to him even if he had to tackle him. 

There was no one in the park. Sighing, he took the waterproof cover from the piano. He was told they would remove it and its siblings across town soon, because of the cold. He sat, took off his gloves, warmed his hands. His listener was coming closer. He started to play. He did not play for long. Soon, he could feel the first drops. It started raining. His audience was still there. 

Fang growled a curse under his breath and put everything back in order, the cover and all. He did not see his audience. They must have left. He whirled around, prepared to make a run for it. And almost hit him. He was taller still than Fang had thought. It took him a second to realize the man was holding his arm.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

All of Fang’s eloquence fled. He sounded like he looked, his voice deep, but soft. He would crawl in that voice and stay there and that was the weirdest thought he had had so far. 

“It’s fine. I thought you’d run off.”  _ Why did you have to say that you complete moron? _

The stranger had the good grace to look sheepish. Maybe he was running off the other times? But he stayed put. 

“Since it’s not a weather to play the piano, I thought I could ask you if you’re up for a coffee?”

Fang raised a - now metaphorical - eyebrow at this. Smooth. “Afraid I’d have come here for nothing?”

“Or maybe to thank you for the good music?”

“You date every street musicians in that city?” Fang could not help smiling, even as his interlocutor was. Even if the rain was intensifying. 

“So far, the only one I talked to is the tattooed pianist in the park. Do you know anyone else?”

“They all are terrible. The name’s Fang.” He immediately twisted from the man’s grasp to hook his arm around his. It was a bit of a test, but he did not move away. His smile got impossibly bright.

“A pleasure. I’m Paws.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Paws. Coffee is awfully tempting. Haven’t had coffee in good company in ages.” And maybe that was going to make Zetiva’s ears ring, but she kind of deserved it, for all the teasing. 

“I know of a good place nearby. Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

“I don’t. Don’t you? You always seem like you’re running.”

“It’s the autumn break, got nothing else to do.” 

Fang refused to hear what he thought he was hearing. But at the same time, it was too good to pass on. “Now you do. And I still want your number.” He did not quite dare leaning in as much as he wanted - he could feel warmth radiating from Paws and it did things to him.

Turned out Paws - the name was adequate - had large hands, compared to his. He wondered what they would feel like on his body. Paws knew a very cosy teashop - that also served coffee, and hot chocolate - not far from the park. 

It was an old building, two-stories high, that somehow survived the rebuilding of the area. Dark wood everywhere - he could be in Britain - while walls between the timbers. Small tables and deep armchairs. He was just sad that there were no bench so that he could sit close to him. They got a table on the first floor, with the window facing the park. They were alone upstairs. 

Fang took off his coat and scarf. And was very good, and did not stare. He did. And noticed how well-fitted Paws’s clothes were.  _ Stop and try to act like a civilised person, you animal!  _ Because ‘kiss me please and also bend me over’ is not exactly an adequate conversation starter. Instead, he settled on thanking Paws for his offer.

“Like I said, the pleasure’s all mine. Thing is, I wanted to talk to you before, just wasn’t sure how.”

“And had to run right after. That’s cliché. Wanted to talk to you, too.” He paused when a waitress showed up with the menus. They thanked her, and then took a moment to have a look at it. He waited a beat before going on, when Paws tilted his head to the side in a silent question. “I was thinking that if you tried to leave, I’ll just tackle you.”

Paws smiled, shook his head. Fang found himself smiling back.

“Any reason why?”

“Any reason why you’d risk being late just to listen to music?”

Paws leaned back into his seat, and damn if that did not make Fang want to crawl into his laps.  _ FANG, GET A GRIP.  _

“You got me. I like what you played. And guess that after a while, I started to look at the pianist.”

“Liked what you saw?”

“Like what I see.” The reply had been fast, and it had been a long time since Fang had bothered flirting with anyone.

“Careful, I might not let you go.”

“Good, I’m not going anywhere.”

“So I don’t get to tie you up? Sad.” Fang looked at the list of blends, and found that they also had a range of breakfast wares. He was hungry. He almost missed Paws’s voice.

“There’s time for that later.” Paws froze, and added: “That sounds awful, I didn’t even ask you out.”

“You just did. Thanks for saving me the asking out part.”

“Had I known, I’d have done it much earlier.” 

Fang opened his mouth to tell Paws they would just have to make up for the lost time, but the waitress arrived to take their orders. Only after she brought everything did Fang speak again. Silence was not strained, that was a relief, but Fang still had to.

“We can make up for the lost time?”

“Oh?” Paws’s grin turned slightly feral. “What d’you have in mind?”

“A kiss seems like a good start.” In all honesty, it was more a dare than anything. Even if no one was around, kissing in public was not everyone’s cup of tea. 

Paws did lean closer, and Fang might feel a bit antsy, if only because he wanted to be kissed, but also, he was not sure he would manage to keep his calm. Up close, Paws was a dangerously handsome man. His hair looked soft. And Fang was pretty sure he could cut his hand on these cheekbones. Paws stopped mere centimeters from him. 

“Where do you want me to kiss you, Fang?”

“Is that a trick question? We’re in a public area.”

“Shame.”

Fang leaned forward, kissing him lightly - just a brush of lips - his body screaming at him. He could feel Paws smiling, and he took it as his cue to deepen the kiss. Licking Paws’s lips - questioning, and relieved when it got him a hum of assent. He wanted, needed more, that kiss just a taste - and he definitely wanted more of that. He brought his hand to Paws’s face, holding him closer. He might as well be drowning, but it was a good way to go. 

He let Paws pull away, reluctantly - and maybe he did make a small noise. And apparently his body decided that a kiss was definitely on the highway to getting laid. His pants were definitely too tight. Although he had an excuse - he had been thinking about that man for way too long, and reality was much better than fiction. 

“I should have asked you to come to my place, maybe.” 

“We can still do that, after.” 

Fang eyed Paws carefully, and was surprised when he bent forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before reclining in his armchair. 

“Still nothing better to do?”

“No other suitable candidate as of now. Problem?”

“Well, if it helps making you feel better, I’ll fall on that sword.”

Admittedly he was a bit proud of that terrible pun when Paws had to put down his cup as soon as he had taken it. He had a nice laughter. Deep. Damn, Fang was really fucked. They drank in companionable silence, while Fang demolished the beef and horseradish sandwiches - and passed them over to Paws. 

“I don’t want to steal your food.”

“Look, horseradish is like garlic. Kissing someone who just had some is weird unless you had some yourself.”

Paws raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“I might have ordered more than I really needed?”

“Liar.”

“I’m feeding you, come on!”

“That makes me sound like a cannibal, Fang.” Paws took a sip of his tea. 

“You’re welcome to eat me.” Fang smiled brightly and kept eating the last of ‘his’ sandwiches, and drank a bit more tea. He was aware that Paws had tensed, but the control he had on himself seemed to be really strong. Fang would have to be a bit more convincing. 

“You’re the worst tease.”

“I aim to please.” 

They finished their tea in silence, and it was already closer to ten. Fang did not want Paws to leave. He wanted to know more about him, and so he asked. 

“I’m an osteopath. And I teach at the medschool.”

“Setting bones?”

“Among other things.”

Fang stared. It was Christmas in advance, or something? “I’m keeping you, you’re not getting rid of me.”

Paws laughed, the sound rich and pleasant. “I don’t even want to.”

“Good. Backrub is definitely on my list.”

“Same here. You have your spine tattooed, right?”

Fang nodded. “It’s not obvious though, why?”

It was Paws’s turn to smirk: “I really want to get my hands on that.”

“Good, I want you to get your hands on me.”

“Heard that pianists had good hands, too.”

“Trigger fingers, my good man. And I’m a good rider too.” 

Paws seemed to consider it, but Fang was faster - he leaned out of his seat, and kissed Paws. Except he did not bother being gentle about it - he kissed him hard, like his life was depending on it, and he wanted to just go and sit in his lap, and feel his hands on him, feel his body against his- and of course, what was a filthy kiss without a boner? He hissed, the pressure painful, when combined with the friction. 

“How about we go elsewhere?” Paws was rubbing his thumb on his cheek, his touch gentle, grounding - possessive. 

“Excellent idea.” 

Fang was doing his best to act normal, but it was rather hard - he really was hilarious - when you have a hard-on that refused to leave him be. Even so, his skin itched, he was on edge. Blessed be the long, heavy coats. They paid - and since neither wanted the other to pay the whole tab, they settled on paying for each other. A rather singular way of going Dutch, and he probably should not find that so funny. 

Also, he was fairly sure the waitress did hear them, because she did not look either of them in the eye - and was fairly pink. They both tipped her, and if Fang was always careful with his money, tips were something he refused to be stingy about. 

They took a moment to agree on where they would go. Fang’s place was closer. On the way there, Paws casually let his arm rest around Fang’s waist, the both of them falling into step with ease. Public display of affection was not something Fang was particularly fond of, but it felt right. And at this point, he did not care a whit what others might think or say. 

Fang’s apartment was old, even if it had been renovated. The only thing that could give its age away was the hardwood floor - everywhere except in the kitchen and bathroom - and the central part of the massive windows, still decorated in Art Déco stained glass. The house belonged to a friend of Natil’s mother. When she had passed away, three years ago, Fang had bought the flat - Zetiva had lent him part of the money, if only ‘to save that beautiful piece of architecture’. Turned out the building was in good shape and the plumbing had been redone recently. 

Fang loved that place. Especially the bathroom. Mosaics in rose gold and purple and white and maybe it was a bit kitsch but he honestly could not care less. And the bathtub was huge. Good feature of the place: the other half of the building was owned by a woman who, according to Natil, had lived here as long as he could remember. She was always abroad, always travelling, but the few times Fang had seen her, she had been very kind. 

Fang was glad that he actually kept the place tidy, because really, nothing worse than bringing your date to a pigsty. Actually, the place was fairly big - there were two more rooms, one of which had become his study - bookshelves took most of the space, and he had picked his furniture carefully - white dominated, making it look bigger. It was probably too much for a single man, and he did not use all the space anyway. Never cared much. 

He took off his coat, hanging it in the closet in the corridor, taking Paws’s as well. Wool. He toed his shoes off, and put them away on the dedicated shelf on the side. He made his way to the living-room. He would not jump Paws right away, no sir. He was very good. 

However, the place was too warm for the many layers he had been wearing, so he took his pullover off, and proceeded to do the same with his shirt, when Paws came towards him. Fang turned to face him. And really got that urge to climb him. Not now. He also kept his shirt on.

“Tour, then tea and food? I’m still kinda starving.”

“You really want me to stay there, heh?” 

“Unless you want to jump to other activities? But I’d like to take advantage of the fact that my brain is still functioning.”

“Oh, so you have a brain.” 

Fang stared at him in mock outrage: “Excuse you, I’m not a zombie!”

“True. Tour?” 

Fang nodded and turned around, showing Paws where the bathroom, study, and bedroom, were. There was a second, smaller bathroom, in the communication corridor. And then, the kitchen. 

“No laundry room?”

“They did it the old way, we have one in the basement. And a dryer. And a cellar. Honestly, my aunt comes here just because it gives her ‘Old World vibes’.” 

Paws had the good grace to laugh, and did not complain even when Fang showed him where was what in the kitchen, “So you know where everything is and you can handle yourself.” 

He made tea - lavender, rose, jasmine, with black tea. One of his all time favourite. And was pleased to see Paws actually putting the mugs on the tray. He had not showed him where he stored them. He got some of the brioche Faze had made the day before - and forced him to take when he got home - at an ungodly hour. 

“Isn’t it lunch time?” He stopped to consider it. It was too late for breakfast, and probably too early for lunch. Well, he had some ideas, for lunch.

“It’s a bit early, but it could be.” 

“I don’t think I can do anything too fancy, so if you’re willing to suffer with me, I can make pasta. And don’t worry about the garlic, I have spare toothbrushes.”

“Really, Fang?” 

“Organisation! So?”

“Fine with the pasta.”

“Carbonara, bolognese, puttanesca…?”

“Come again?”

Fang could not help it. “I’d love to.” Paws stared at him, unimpressed. “Garlic, anchovies, black olives, pepper, tomatoes.”

“That sounds good. Never had it before.”

“Great. Let’s get you a proper apron. Cooking is not always stain-proof.”

Fang opened the walk-in pantry, and took two aprons. He had bought these in London, and they catered to his sense of humour. 

“ _ Raw, burnt, or cremated? _ Really?”

“You prefer  _ Killer Cook _ ?”

Paws shook his head, put on the apron, and washed his hands. “For some reason, I’m not surprised.” 

“I’m too obvious, the horror!”

“Shame on you, dishonour on your cow.”

“Woe!” Fang did the same, washed his hands, and went to fetch what they needed to make the pasta and sauce. The kitchen was not that big, but somehow, they managed not to run into each other while setting everything up for the preparation. Fang actually enjoyed the proximity. The pasta were cooking, the sauce was coming along nicely. 

He set the table. A round table that could be expanded should the need arise. They had a few minutes left before the spaghetti were cooked. Hands washed, apron tucked away. He moved closer to Paws, laying a hand on his hip to get his attention - Paws was stirring the sauce. 

“Hmmm?”

“I gotta thank you for your help.”

“You do.” Paws turned away from the stove, and Fang took his chance to kiss him again. And gods, it probably should have been gentle, and not so heated but the next thing he knew, he had his back to the door, Paws kissing him breathless. He put his arms around his shoulders, moaning when Paws’s hands ran down his back, settling on his hips - fuck that felt nice - his hands so hot- and the timer went off. 

The only thing that kept Fang from sliding down to the floor was the fact that Paws was holding him. He was not quite hard yet, but yes. Before the day was over, he would have this man in his bed, naked, and with a bit of luck, he would be the one riding him. Too bad Paws was not pressed flush against him. But working your fellow cook up, when the food was ready… that was bad form. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against his lips. He slipped away to finish preparing the pasta, like nothing happened. Even if he wanted nothing more than going on. 

However, it would be a waste of good food. He left Paws with instructions to finish mixing everything together while he went to hunt some wine. Red would do nicely. He had a few bottles of Primitivo he rarely ever got out. But it was a date, and pasta worked better with a nice wine. 

He came back to the pasta already on the table. He made short work of the cork, and did test the wine before serving Paws. He poured some more for himself and proceeded to serve the pasta. The discussion was fairly easy, interspersed with pauses. That way Fang learned more about Paws’s music taste, his work as a professor - the fact that he absolutely loved his job as an osteopath, as a teacher. 

“If you ever need a guinea pig, I’m in. I mean, my jobs are mostly: sitting, and bent forward on something - either keys, or paper.”

“Definitely will have to do something about your back then.”

“Not just my back, I hope.”

“Of course, Fang. Anything.” 

Fang had noticed how Paws’s eyes would linger on the tattoos that peeked from his under his tank top. The collarbones. 

“The same artists worked on all my tattoos. I’m not completely done yet, but that’s a start.” 

“Would you show me?”

“That was the plan.” 

They smiled at each other, and went back to their food. It was only after the table was cleared that Fang remembered the tea. What an idiot he was. 

“Reheat it?”

“If I were on my own, I might, but that thing’s been steeping for so long… nope. Not gonna happen. Movie?”

“Depends on what you have?”

“Let’s be real, I just want an excuse to get on your lap and stay there.”

“How about just anything? Where do you hide your stack of toothbrushes? Because seriously, my tastebuds won’t be tasting anything but pepper otherwise.”

“A man after my own heart. Come on.” He led Paws back to the bathroom, gave him a toothbrush - mercifully a different colour than his own… And they ended up brushing their teeth together like they had done it all their life. 

“Gotta change, though. I really can’t stand staying in my jeans at home.”

“You don’t have to wear them.”

“Ah, but if I ditch the pants, I might uncover way too much. Still a bit early for dessert.” And with that he sauntered to his bedroom on the first floor - barely closing the door. He put his shirt on a hanger - the ‘used once’ hanger - and did the same for his pants. He put on a pair of loose pants, with his tank top and yes, these pants were just a fast move away from dropping to the floor but he loved the feeling. 

He went back to the living room, to find Paws had made tea - the same one - and was bringing it to the coffee table. He was keeping that man. And sure, he saw how Paws’s gaze lingered on the waistband of his pants, but he did nothing about it. Instead, he turned on the tv, and checked the channels. They ended up watching one of those culinary shows that have been flourishing over the past years. As the episode progressed, Fang got closer and closer, until he was pressed against Paws. 

“Did they just fry that cheese.”

“They did.”

“ _ Why would you do that? _ ” Fang was flummoxed. Why would you do this. 

“IS THAT TABASCO?”

“Tastebuds are no longer part of the human body.”

“Clearly. But why inflict that to people? WHERE IS GORDON RAMSAY!”

“Soon, Paws, soon.” He patted Paws’s thigh, but he himself was not feeling too good about it. This was terrible. And he could not even say it was getting any better, but at least now, Ramsay was doing the yelling for them. 

Fang ended up forgetting about his tea. He was comfortable, and warm. He looked up at Paws. Maybe he could try and save him from the trainwreck that was this tv show? He twisted a bit to the side, pressing himself against Paws, nuzzling his neck. 

“Still watching?”

“Hmmm?” 

Fang took it as his cue to swing his leg above Paws’s lap, effectively sliding on top of him. He pressed against Paws, kissing his jaw and neck, fingers in his hair. So soft. 

“Maybe I’m not watching anymore.” Paws moved, and the sound died. Sign that the thing was turned off. 

“Good.” Fang grinned at him. “Kiss me?” 

“Asked so nicely… of course.” Paws kissing him was slow and sweet, without the heat that had been there when in the kitchen. He did not mind. 

Fang kissed him back at his leisure, exploring his mouth, keeping track of Paws’s reactions - nipping his lips earned him a sigh. He ground against him, and yes, these pants were so much more comfortable than jeans. But it also meant that he could not quite hide from Paws. Paws’s hands on his back, skirting at the edge of his tank top - as if skin on skin was a bit much. But he wanted that. He did not speak - instead, he took one of Paws’s hand in his, and shoved it under his top. His hands  _ were  _ hot. It was setting his skin on fire. He untucked Paws’s shirt, getting his hands on him as well - smooth, warm skin.

“I really have to see you naked.”

“And you’ll just look at me?” Paws grinned and kissed him again. Harder, much rougher- Fang whined shamelessly when Paws sucked on his tongue. Definitely needed that mouth all over him. 

“Maybe I’ll touch you. Get you to touch me.” 

Paws cupped his ass, bringing him closer - and man, he was hard, and if Fang was not deceived, he was in for a wild ride. Fingers under the waistband of his pants. Caressing him - hinting, but it was not enough. On his hips - he rutted against Paws - he did not want to make demands right now but damn, he wanted those hands on his cock. Now. 

He would not stop kissing Paws to speak, either. Instead, he started to work his pants open - and maybe greed was a sin, but honestly, he could deal with that. Paws did not tell him to stop either - but his hips did jerk when Fang unwittingly touched him. Underwears. It would be awkward to get rid of the things now, but… He traced Paws’s hips, and then followed that glorious V. Lightly touching Paws at last, curling his fingers around his cock and- damn. He could not help it, he broke the kiss to look. He froze - not exactly surprised - but beauty always had to be appraised fully. 

“Fang?” He heard the uncertainty in Paws’s voice. And he did not like what it implied. 

He looked up, and kissed him, hand slowly pumping him into full hardness. So hot and glorious. “I wanted to ride you before, I want to ride you still. Now.” 

“On the couch?”

“On the bed. I have a big one.”

“Do I get to carry you there?” 

“I’m not letting you leave, ever.” And so, he did let Paws carry him - and he was not short, or light. But Paws did manage to get them upstairs. Even if they had to stop once they reached the first floor, Fang caught between the wall and Paws - holding on thanks to his legs - and abs. Training did have a purpose, then. 

“And there I thought you were light.”

“Bones and muscles. But you’re doing well.”

“Do I get anything for my troubles?”

Fang snorted. “I’ll ignore the fact that you offered to carry me.” He licked Paws’s lips, slowly. “You’ll see.” 

Paws did get them to the bed, and when they reached it, Fang let go of him to ditch his tank top - and threw it on the ‘worn’ chair - that was here mostly for that kind of situation. He smirked at Paws, motioning for him to take off his shirt. He threw it on top of Fang’s clothes. 

It was a crime to let this man go around clothed. And a sin that he could be so handsome. Fang did not even try to control himself - holding onto his shoulders, he began kissing his way from Paws’s jaw to his collarbones, as far down as he could. He wanted to lick and bite him. All over. Leave him mark, claim Paws for himself. 

“Fang,” groaned Paws, “bed.”

Fang nipped Paws’s collarbone, and then only, let himself fall back on the bed - or rather, he used Paws as a pole as he slowly lowered himself backward, until his shoulders touched the bed. It was something he had always wanted to try, but so far, none of the men he had fucked were tall, or strong, enough to allow him that. He did not let go right away.

“I let go only if you get naked and on top of me right away.”

“What, not even give me a moment to enjoy the view?”

Fang grinned, and loosened his hold minutely. “Maybe, a bit.” He let go completely and stretched, before he rose on his elbows, watching in rapt attention as Paws quickly divested himself of  his pants - and tossed them away. He was not quite sure how it was possible but he could not tell if his mouth was watering or going dry. 

He took in the sight of Paws. Smooth skin over muscles that Fang knew to be hard - the man managed to carry him and stay upright as Fang let himself fall back! - and scars showing lighter on his thighs - wide, straight, bespeaking past surgery. He looked up slowly, and he tried not to stare too much but damn, it was hard not to. Proportions. He had to draw him. When he would be done exploring his body with his hands and his mouth, that was. Up to his face - and was he blushing? Maybe a bit. He raised his left leg, hooking it behind Paws’s knee. 

“I do enjoy the view, very much.”

“Sight only does so much. And you’re overdressed.”

“Oh, am I? Help me out?” He moved back on the bed to make more room for Paws - and almost lost his pants. Paws followed him, and to have him tower over him like that… It gave Fang a sense of complete exhilaration he had not thought he would ever experience. It was not threatening. 

Instead, it was heady to have someone look at him like he was the most beautiful thing on that plane of existence. Paws kissed him, all too briefly, and he growled at the loss.  _ You got hands, damnit! _ But then Paws began kissing his way down to his collarbone. Kissing, licking at his tattoos… Tracing them. He caught the question in his stare, and nodded.

“Please, keep going.” He congratulated himself for being way more articulate than he thought he would be at that stage. And so Paws went on, exploring then Fang’s left shoulder and arm, following the vines that crept on his skin in black ink. Fang carefully removed the tie from Paws’s hair - it fell, longer than he had expected. Silky on his skin, almost tickling. Paws kissing his knuckles, reverent. And Fang was disappointed when he moved to his right shoulder just after that. 

He arched on the bed, bracing his weight on his feet. He wanted more, damnit. And at the same time, he wanted to savour that moment. He tensed when Paws reached the words on the inside of his arm.  _ Invictus maneo _ . 

Whether he noticed or not, Paws went on. Kissed his palm, his knuckles. Fuck- he groaned loudly when Paws began to lick and suck his fingers in turn. He could feel him smile. His mouth was so hot - teeth nipping the pads of his fingers - and his tongue- he was dying. He was dying and goddamnit, he would not mind dying over and over again for at least a century and a half.

He moaned when Paws finally let go. Shit, when was the last time he was that aroused from so little? He was not letting him go. That was final. 

“You broke me…” Oh, he had a voice still. Marvelous. 

“Not enough.” A light kiss to the corner of his mouth - while a hand pressed against his cock through the fabric - he bucked into the touch, whining. 

“Paws!” 

“In a hurry?”

“Slow is later, stop teasing!” He tried to glare, he really did… But then Paws began kissing his way down - and usually, Fang was not one to care to have his nipples played with but again, Paws did feel a lot hotter than anyone else so far. 

“Teeth…” He could not even say more - Paws bit down on his left nipple, electricity shooting through him - amping up his desire a bit more. Licking the bite - sensitive, almost too much - and the other and Paws gripped his hips when he did. He could not move. And down he moved again, until he reached his right hip, kissing the leaf on the hipbone. Ivy leaves. Soft bite… 

Fang did not even try to stay quiet, letting his breaths turn into pants and moans when Paws mouthed him through his pants, wet and warm, and maddening. Smoothly move to his other hip, while his left arm slid under Fang’s back. And how Paws lifted him without his help, he was not sure, but right after, the pants were tugged off. Sliding down his legs, Paws’s mouth following along the vines that ran from hip to shin. Hair tickling slightly. 

Paws sat back for a moment, staring at him - Fang followed his gaze - and damn, he was growing harder. He did not move, did not speak, but damn. Paws tracing his tattoos slowly, from his calf to the inside of his thighs. Closer. Not enough. He let his legs fall open even more and he did not give a shit about the picture he might have presented. He needed that touch like he needed air. He almost missed it - did Paws call him ‘gorgeous’? He could get behind that. 

“Fang?”

“Anything.” He was too far gone to care. And lube and condoms were close by. Hell, he even had all the necessary paraphernalia, gloves included - he had needed these once, but really, you never know. And gloves came in handy when painting with china ink. 

“Can I taste you?” 

That had the opposite effect of what Paws probably was expecting but honestly, if Fang could do without the niceties… He bolted upright and went to sit on Paws’s laps, arms around his neck, fingers entwined in his hair.

“I haven’t gotten laid in literal months, been doing all my checkups and all came back clean, I don’t share needles or toothbrush, so unless you have been up to dark and dirty deeds yourself, yes you can, and really, yes to anything you might propose because I been dying for you to get your hands on me since I saw you.” As he was speaking, he was rocking his hips slowly - just a taste, a tiny taste, and damn, he really really had to get to ride Paws. Soon. 

Paws kissed him, hands on his back, holding him closer. He kissed him hard and deep, and Fang whined in his throat when Paws gently sucked on his tongue. Letting go, leaving him dazed. 

“I don’t even remember the last time. All clean on my side, and I don’t bathe in people’s blood to stay young.”

“A true immortal. What did you ask, again?” He grinned, but it was short-lived when Paws pushed him back on the bed, settling between his legs, wasting no time to kiss his thighs - and his hair on his skin - hints of teeth and fuck he missed that. Although, had it been him, he would have bitten down. Hands moving up - stroking his hips, dipping closer to his cock - questing fingers that ran closer and closer and- shit that felt nice. Stopping, like a question. 

“Texture thing.” It was. And well, he shaved the rest, so why not? 

Paws hummed, lips over his femoral artery and fuck, he could almost feel his own blood pumping. He barely saw Paws’s face, until he got the will to let go of the sheets he had been clutching to push his hair away from his face. That smile - it would be the death of him. 

He could not look away, not when Paws nipped the tendon on the inside of his upper thigh, not when he breathed against his cock - the sensation of hot air brushing his heated skin, though, that almost did him in - but he fell back on the bed with a wail when that madman licked him from the root up, then wrapped his lips around the head - licking at him and  _ fuck _ ! He moaned loudly, barely able to breathe, and Paws’s right hand pinning him down, the left one cupping his balls, massaging gently, fingers dipping a bit lower and fuck he needed that man to fuck him right now and stop teasing! 

He was a panting mess. Fang keened when Paws withdrew, half-wanting to fight and force his face back down - but not on the first date. Shit, first date. Paws moving atop of him, braced on his right hand - the other slowly moving up to rest on his hip. A light brush of lips. 

“Thank you.” He kissed him, and damn, he could practically taste himself on Paws’s tongue, and it was a heady mix. 

“I need you…” He did, he was getting desperate. Anything would do. 

Paws nodded. “And I want you. So badly. But I really want to take some time to prepare you good before going for that ride…”

Made sense. And lo and behold, his sanity returned. “Anything. Just keep touching me, please.” He was glad that Paws swapped their positions, though, because that meant he got more control without asking. It also meant that now, he was the one straddling Paws’s thighs. He could not stop touching him after this, kissing him as long as he could before moving on, fingers and mouth exploring his skin, every plane and hollow of his body, kissing and licking his scars. 

And because now was time for payback, he did gave Paws a taste of his own medicine  by teasing his nipples as Paws did to him. A thought flashed - studs - he keened against Paws’s skin, rutting - can’t shame the shameless - against him. His brain short-circuited for a second. Had to resist, more teasing. But when he got to Paws’s thighs? He did not play so nice. Kissing his way down, then up again, hands moving down his calves. A difference of texture - Paws tensed. Had to be a scar too. He did not insist, keeping his touch feather-light. 

He found a nice spot to bite, and he started to sink his teeth in, slowly, giving Paws the possibility to say ‘no’. He did not. Paws put his hand on the back of his head, keeping him there, spread his thighs wide. Fang bit down, relishing the groan it earned him, the way Paws tensed and relaxed… The way blood rushed to the bite, heating Paws’s skin further. He kissed the bite, lips dragging on the sensitive area. Moved up. And repeated his ministrations on the other side, Paws calling him, obviously impatient. 

Fang smiled. Payback. He knew he did not have the strength to hold Paws down. He put his hands behind Paws’s knees, pushing his legs as far apart as he could, while keeping it comfortable enough. Grinning at Paws the whole time, before he let go, bracing his hands on the bed and kept Paws in position with his arms and body. 

Still smiling he lowered himself, not breaking eye-contact as he softly kissed Paws’s cock - just the head, tongue darting to collect some of the precome. How his hips jerked up, a low whine for an answer. Or a plea. Or both. He sucked him lightly, not going too far - just teasing, before he let go of him with a harder suck. Kissed his way down, nuzzling the junction of his thigh, bringing up his left hand, stroking Paws once, twice, then down to fondle his balls - this got him what sounded like a curse. And another call of his name. He glanced up, but did not move away. 

“Something the matter?”

“You’re killing me.”

He grinned - he liked being told that, after all. But he did not back down, asking again. 

“Can I see your back?” 

And like this did not have his mind frying and fraying and shooting in various directions. “Only if you keep touching me.” But he let go of Paws, kissing his thigh just the once before he slithered back on top of him. His kisses desperate and hungry, and he felt as well as heard Paws’s moan. The way he licked into his mouth made Fang ache. 

Hands down his back, holding his hips for a moment, cupping his ass, and fuck, Paws felt so hot. He let out a whine, hips stuttering, craving the stimulation. He let Paws withdraw, and settled on his stomach. He was good, he did not rut against the sheets right away. 

For all the mindless urgency, he enjoyed that - the teasing, the exploration - the way Paws kissed his neck. Right before his hands moved around his tattoo, and even if Fang could not see him, he could tell from the care in Paws’s touch. He was admiring the work. It had been long, and kind of gruelling because of the details. 

“This is such beautiful work…” Fang smiled at the awe in Paws’s voice. Before he went on: “You’re a work of art.” 

Wanted to laugh, to brush it away, tell Paws it was nothing. But he could not. Not after Paws spoke like he  _ meant _ it. He merely stretched, and thanked him - keeping it simple. A lull in that rush. Paws’s touch grew more teasing then, tracing the tattoo to his ass - he had kept it running as far as possible, and the result was flawless. Fingers trailing heat on his skin. Wordlessly, Fang reached out for the lube in the drawer. If only to make it more comfortable, whatever Paws sets his mind to. He left it, still capped, on the bed, within reach for Paws. 

Lips against his ear, breathing tickling somewhat. “So many things I want to do to you, with you…”

“Got time. Anything.” He meant it. Anything! 

“Like I said, no riding today…” But even as he was speaking, Paws covered Fang’s back, and fuck, he could feel his cock against his ass, and  _ he needed more _ . 

Fang spread his legs somewhat - to feel him closer - Paws took the hint, pressing against him more, and it was torture. Sweet, sweet torture that left him hungry and aching. 

“But… there might be a way for you to get a feel. A proper one.” 

Fang snarled, patience running thin. “Do it.”

“You’re on.” Fuck that sounded more like a growl than anything else, just when he thought he could not be even more turned on. 

He heard the sound of Paws lubing himself up - damn, he wanted to do that, so badly - he keened softly, too strung out for words. He arched his back, pushing back against Paws - and felt him slip between his thighs, a bit too low, but soon, Paws corrected it. Fang reflexively squeezed his legs together, relishing the feeling of Paws’s cock pressing against his balls, not quite enough to brush against his own cock, but  _ fuck that felt good _ . So hot, and damn, he could not wait to get Paws to fuck him good. 

Teeth nipping at the nape of his neck, and one hand under him, holding him up, bringing him closer. Fang moaned, loud, absolutely shameless - clutching the sheets - and braced himself. Paws soon picked up a pace, and damn, it was not quite what he had expected, but it felt so good. He could hear and feel Paws panting against his skin, mouthing his tattoo.  

He could not move much. Pressed his thighs together. It felt so good, even better when he pushed back. He whine when Paws bit his shoulder - slowly applying pressure until Fang could feel the imprint of his teeth marking his skin. Warmth blooming under his skin. Paws’s rhythm growing faster - one of his hands leaving the bed to run down his side. 

“I want to hear you when you come, Fang. Want to see you come so bad.”

All Fang could manage was a broken plea, and then Paws curled his hand around his cock - nearly undoing him. So hot. Stroking him, spreading precome as he did and the heat was too much. Kissed on his neck. The sensation of Paws fucking harder between his thighs and his fingers touching him just right- 

He came, wailing Paws’s name, clawing at the bed, the intensity of his orgasm leaving him shaking and almost unable to support himself past the first instant that had him rear back into Paws. Paws who came shortly after, a growl - and maybe it was his name. And praise, the praise as Paws slowly let himself fall to the side, bringing Fang with him. Trying to catch his breath, like Fang was. 

Fang rolled over to face him, rising until he rested on Paws’s chest. He kissed him, slow and thorough, still hazed. He nuzzled Paws’s neck, kissing his skin, his left hand tracing idle patterns on Paws’s arm. Paws had his hand on Fang’s back - it felt nice. 

“So, still keeping me,  _ Maestro _ ?”

“Absolutely. You killed me. Temporarily. In a good way.” Oh look, he was babbling! Clear sign his mind was shot to hell. 

Paws chuckled, and kissed Fang - just a brush of lips. The closeness was enough for them. “Shower?”

“After. Stay the night?”

“I’d love to.” 

 


End file.
